


Triptych

by whitchry9



Series: they're all autistic, fight me [5]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Autism, Autistic Character, College, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Meltdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 02:59:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11934909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitchry9/pseuds/whitchry9
Summary: Three periods of Matt's life, three meltdowns (or near meltdowns).





	Triptych

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Idlewild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idlewild/gifts).



> A present for idlewild, who won my follower giveaway. I'm deeply sorry that this fic took over two (!!) years. Let the public shaming commence. But anyway I do hope you enjoy it.
> 
>  
> 
> As always, your autistic experience may vary.

Stick keeps pushing him. Not actually, not this time, but emotionally and mentally and Matt is tired and he hurts and his skin doesn't seem to fit right, and he wants to go home, wherever that is. But Stick keeps pushing him and pushing him and pushing him and Matt thinks he just might... snap.

 

“Come on Matty, if you don't get up, you won't be any better than your dead daddy.”

 

That does it.

 

Matt is curled up on the ground, holding himself tight like he might be able to hold in the emotions that are threatening to tear out of him.

His skin feels worse now, like it's too tight and stretched thin on a body that doesn't fit it. He thinks the inch he grew in the last few months might have had something to do with it.

 

Stick isn't yelling at him, which is kind of odd. Stick always yells at him.

 

His breath echoes loudly inside the hollow between his chest and arms.

 

“Oh Matty,” Stick sighs. He almost sounds...

Matt doesn't know. Not angry though. Matt doesn't understand why he's not angry. He should be.

“I should have known,” Stick says, more to himself than Matt. Matt doesn't know what he's talking about.

 

He's probably right though, Matt reflects, his heart racing in his ears. Stick always seems to be right. Which means he's right about Matt being no better than his dad.

 

He lets out a noise that is low and far too close to a sob. He wonders if Stick is just going to leave him there, like he's threatened to do before, or if he's going to drag Matt up by his arms and force him to keep going.

Matt's not sure which would be worse.

 

But as the moments tick by, Stick doesn't do either. He's still there, but he doesn't say anything. His heart beats reassuringly, just to let Matt know he's not alone.

When Matt finally feels like his skin fits again, he crawls out of the cocoon he's made out of his own body.

 

“You done kid?” Stick asks.

Matt nods.

“Alright. I think we're done for today. Let's get you home.”

 

He never mentions it again, and Matt only figures out what he meant by saying 'I should have known' years later.

Even when he knows, he wonders how Stick knew. And why he didn't tell him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I'm sorry Mr Murdock, we don't seem to have your test here.”

“I signed up over a week ago like I was supposed to. I got an email confirming I had booked it. It's not an option for me to just write the test in the classroom with everyone else,” Matt says, growing more anxious by the second.

“I understand your frustration but there's not much I can do from here. You can always go talk to your professor, see if they can provide the test for you in an alternate format.”

“The exam started-” he feels for his watch “- ten minutes ago now. I'm not walking into the lecture hall where everyone else is writing to tell him that the test centre can't find my test.”

“I don't have anything else to tell you.”

“Well look again,” Matt snaps.

 

The test centre employee huffs at him, but rustles through the papers on the desk. He doesn't know how hard it can be to find a test that is either in braille, or is contained on a flash drive he can plug into his computer and have read to him.

 

“There's nothing here.”

Matt almost growls, but manages to bite it back at the last second. “Then I suggest you talk to your superior and figure out a way for me to write my exam.” He raises an eyebrow pointedly, and the employee skulks out from behind their desk and disappears through a door.

 

As soon as they're gone, Matt collapses to the ground, squeezing his arms tight around him and forcing himself to take deep, measured breaths. It's going to be fine. He's going to be a lawyer. He knows how to talk his way out of situations. He'll get his test in an accessible format. He'll make sure he gets the time he's entitled to. He'll answer each question clearly and concisely to prove how much he knows. Everything is going to be fine.

 

He hears two sets of footsteps before they enter the door, and he springs back to his feet just before it opens.

 

“Mr Murdock?” a new voice asks.

He nods.

“I'm very sorry for the mix up. Your test was in the wrong area. I have it here now, and we're going to make sure you get extra time to make up for this.”

Matt nods, accepts the braille sheets he's handed, and heads into the testing room.

 

It takes him another half hour before he can convince his hands to stop shaking.

 

 

* * *

 

 

His skin is crawling and his arm is on fire and the sheets feel like sandpaper and the smells of the ER are assaulting his brain and he can't hear anything besides the sound of his own heart beating because if he lets anything else in he thinks it might be the death of him.

“I can't,” he says. He might be repeating it over and over, he's not sure. He thinks Foggy is still there, and maybe the nurse who was tending to him, but he can't tell. He's too wrapped up in the sensations that are overwhelming him and the pain is just pushing him over the edge. Everything else he might have been able to handle, but with the pain and the shock it's all too much.

 

There are arms around him now, squeezing how he likes it, and he knows that must be Foggy, because he's the only one who knows just how to do it. There's a cool rush in his uninjured arm that makes Matt think the nurse is injecting something, but he can't bring himself to care, because his mind is still running circles around itself and the sheet is still grating against his skin and he thinks that maybe death would be better than this.

 

Things fade a bit after that, and it's only reassurance that the nurse did inject something, maybe a painkiller or a sedative, or both, because the pain seems to lessen and he also doesn't care as much about it.

 

Foggy's arms are still around him, squeezing, but careful of the broken bone in his forearm and the IV in the other hand. The sheet is still painful and he can only hear his own heartbeat and Foggy's right next to him, but his brain is settling and he thinks that he might be able to get a grip on his senses if Foggy keeps up like this.

 

He's grateful he has a friend who is so understanding as to hold him when he's having a meltdown, and that understands why he needs it.

He's once again thankful the universe gave him Foggy Nelson.

 


End file.
